MAFIAXIIIOVERLOAD
by deityb
Summary: Mature, NSFW version of Mafia XIII :M FOR LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, SEXUAL THEMES, GORE, MATURE SITUATIONS, AND MISC.: two households/ both alike in dignity/ in fair sukuea/ where we lay our scene/
1. Chapter 1

**I guess I have a bit of explanation to do. I wanted a fuller version of Mafia, so I went ahead. I'll be re-posting the uncut versions of the chapters I've posted over time, as I work on the next one for both. This one's tame. I'll tell you that. But, please. I'm not the best at this mature thing, but.. Well, the story will need it. All unwilling to read such, stick to my T version, please. Have a fun read!**

"Your name.." He asked, fingers clenched about a fountain pen, tip tapping onto paper impatiently.

"Lumaria Rosenguarde…" The young man replied, a smile playing across handsome features.

"Spell it, please.." The older man sighed, tapping becoming more impatient.

"Ah.. L-U-M-A-R-I-A R-O-S--" He started, before being cut off.

"The first name will do. You won't need the other again.." The man sighed, jotting down the name and beginning his tapping once more. A pause, as he scribbled down the letters a few more times, finally stopping on one combination, "M-A-R-L-U-X-I-A… Pronounce that."

"Marluxia…" He muttered, the word sending a thrilled chill down his spine… He liked it.. Oh, did he like it.

"Good, good." The Superior murmured, scratching down the roman numerals for 'eleven' beside the word, "Marluxia…. Number XI…" A grin, on both faces, "The Graceful Assassin…"

"I like it, sir.."

"Welcome to the family.

:

:another side/another story

:

Slight smoke rose from the smoldering tip of the cig, hanging off of pale lips. So very slowly, a hand rose up to remove the cigarette, flicking it to the ground, where a highly-polished shoe ground out the very last living embers, the same colour as the dying sky. The other hand, that bearing a few gold rings on callused, burned fingers, held a business jacket, slung over his shoulder. Crimson hair, fading to scarlet at the tips of long, pushed-back spikes, shook lazily in the sea's breeze.

Emerald eyes turned to look at cerulean ones. Cerulean eyes, so terrified-looking. Hands of the one with cerulean tentatively fumbling open the trunk of a car that belonged to neither of them.

The cars they used rarely did. Their own vehicles were far too important to them to use for the dirtiest businesses.

A bit of a tremble in his arms, cerulean blond pulled on the broad shoulders of an unconscious man, tossing him out on the ground. Cinder blocks fastened to his feet. One arm missing, the other bruised and scared and broken beyond movement.

One of the others.

At a quick order, the blond began to drag the stirring beaten man across to the farthest dock, redhead trailing behind him. A particular bump in the work of the wood shook the captive awake. Stressed-creased brow clamping as blackened eyes struggled to open. A scarred cheek twitching beneath matted blood, head drooping, regardless of the impossible effort to look ahead.

"Damn you both..." The man gurgled past a mouthful of blood-vomit. That, which proceeded to spill past those lips. The Redhead gagged, sidestepping the trail of hot, disgusting fluids that should never leak past lips.

"Like we've never heard that, old man." A very certain Flurry of the Dancing Flames muttered, fishing through his pocket for another cig, "You're so mean..."

"Mean...?" The old man hissed, dusted brown hair falling into his face, "What a strange word for it.. Axel, isn't it..?"

"Yessir." Axel murmured, flicking out a new, albeit mussed, cigarette and bringing it to his pale lips to light. A particular whip of sarcasm on the later syllable of the word. They paused, as a group, at the end of the dock. The captive, frowning unhappily at the splotches of blood and dirt all about his usually-pristine navy business suit, took eyes to Axel.

"A favor, possibly?" He mumbled, feeling a small lurch as his tongue pushed out one of his teeth.

"Shoot, old man."

He shut his eyes, straightening up as best he could on broken knees, and muttered quietly, "Make sure they know that Tseng is to replace me. Don't put us back under Heidegger... Let them know that. As a defeated foe, I trust it to you."

Without another chance to speak, without an assurance, or anything to give him a last wish or hope, one Verdot, head of the Administrative Department of Research for Shin-Ra Electric Power Company, was cast into the oil-stained summer water.

Silence fell for an eternity.

"Is he dead yet?" Demyx finally asked, adjusting the buttons on his coat nervously. Axel shrugged, passing a grin to the blonde, and leading him back towards the car.

"Probably. 'S been ten minutes, and concrete ain't easy t' escape from, in his state." His tone, opposed to the Demyx's, was laid-back, as if this were routine. Well, it did make sense. He had been here longer, if only by a few months, and he WAS in charge of the… 'Executions'…

The Nocturne shrugged, running a hand through that oddly-styled hair. Not only was this DANGEROUS.. But his pants were damp from the disposal of the prey. Not that he minded water, in fact; he loved it. But what he had DONE while in that water… Just got to him, honestly. He didn't like it..

"Axel.. Do I have to do that… A lot?" He asked, shivering a bit.A silence followed, as said Flurry slipped his coat on once more…

"Yeah, Demyx.. You might." He whispered, turning to enter the black, unmarked car behind them. 'Demyx' bit his lip for a moment, before turning to enter the car. For only a second had the doors been open before another car entered the graveled lot beside this particular harbor.

Demyx glanced around at it, expecting the Sukuea police, who were easy enough to deal with… But, this couldn't be them… The Sukuea Discipline Force officers were known to drive the silver Crown Victoria.. But this was a white.. Rolls Royce?

"Axel--!" Demyx hissed, jerking his head in the direction of the car. Axel paused, standing up full again to look across the lot. Almost immediately, his face paled to a deathly white; even his hair seemed to droop as one of the doors of the Royce opened, and a man in a dark navy suit stepped out, toting a handgun."Get in the car." Axel whispered, but a second too late. That very moment, the suited man raised the gun and began to fire. Demyx let out a sharp squeak, and clutched his left ear in his hand, before jumping into the car. The blood between his fingers indicated his ear had been skimmed in some way.

As fast as he could manage, Axel started the car, not even flinching as the rear window was blown out. Screaming obscenities as bullet after bullet hit the car, he finally managed to get out of the lot, making fast pace to the interstate a few blocks away.

The suited man, his black hair flying awry as he ran, attempted to follow for about a hundred feet or so, before an order was barked across the lot.

"Tseng! Stop. They're gone."

'Tseng' paused, a bit breathless from adrenaline, and turned to face the car… A sigh, as he tucked the gun back into the shoulder holster hidden under the coat.

"Yes, sir." He hissed, tracking back to the car and sticking his head in, "I'll be back, shortly."

Off Tseng went, searching over to the docks and finally pausing just at the edge of what the good President could see from the rear view mirror.

He sighed, watching Tseng strip off his coat and dive into the water. It was hopeless, but the blonde couldn't bring himself to make any motion. Tseng was a 'friend', and such a final gesture to his mentor seemed only adequate and proper.

About three minutes passed, and Tseng resurfaced with a handful of someone's personal belongings, and a gun.

Almost like a dead man, he picked up his coat and phone and wandered back to the car. For once, disregarded any state of unseemliness he would being to the Royce, and slid into his seat without a word.

His hands were shaking heavily… Very heavily. Blue eyes from the back seat grazed over the hands glazed in dirty water, noting they had been clipped by the slide. Not in usual, for a trained marksman. And not only were his hands shaking.. The poor man seemed to be in a full-body tremor…

"Tseng.." The blue-eyed man murmured, a drop of worry against the words, a dash of knowing in the silence between them…

"We're too late." Tseng hissed, shutting his eyes slowly, tone in a forced calm, "They've killed him." After calming just enough, he turned the car to ignition, backing out and making way towards the skyscrapers in the distance. The dancing city lights were already beginning to turn on in the darkening sky.

"Hn…" He knew the thought of that man, of all people, dying should have been far more worrisome, but.. Tseng's attitude was rather alarming… Hearing his right-hand-man in such a devastated silence was, honestly, frightening. He brought up a bandaged hand, placing it between the seats and onto Tseng's shoulder… A note did run across his mind, though.. It was that much harder to move, already. He'd have to see Hojo about that, "Tseng… He was a good man, and I'm sure he fought.."

"I know, sir.." He whispered in reply, swallowing hard in what, the President assumed, was an attempt to regain slipping composure, "I just hate for him to have gone out like that… I'm sorry I lost my temper, I--.."

The President cut him off with a strange squeeze to the shoulder, "You looked up to him.. And he was proud of how far you've come." It was an odd circumstance, to find one as THIS man being so compassionate.

A slight smile… And a nod. Even the president had a heart, it would seem, "Thank you, sir."

The President released his grip on the shoulder slowly, leaning back in his seat, ignoring a pain in his lower back, and adjusting the white sheet that hid him, "Verdot always was so proud."

Knuckles tensed at the name, and composure nearly slipped, "I know, sir… And they'll pay."

"Don't they always…?" Rufus mused… He couldn't put his finger on it, and he would regret it later, but… Something foreboding had been in the air on those words. But that is the story for another day.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: M version of chapter II. Same disclaimers. Have fun.**

A soft puttering, down to a slow, hesitant stop. He swore, glancing at the gauges, checking for anything wrong.

"I think the tire blew out…" Demyx muttered, casting a sidelong glance at the Flurry of the Dancing Flames. Grass eyes squinted, lips pursing in a rather comical, but, no-doubt unimpressed, expression.

"I knew that, dumbass." Axel murmured, pulling the keys out of the ignition and swinging the door open. Hesitant, Demyx followed suit, unbuckling and opening his door to step out. Honestly, he felt safer in the car; it held less chance of a fight than the outside world did. Merely stepping outside of this car, merely breathing this outside air… It was a game of Russian Roulette.

Demyx glanced up, blinking in slight shock to see Axel wandering half-way down the street. Why didn't they just call a tow truck? But, Axel WAS Axel, after all. So, with a bit of a whine, Demyx plodded after, catching up to VIII, just slightly out of breath. An incredulous look asked all he needed, and Axel quickly explained.

"Leave it… Don't talk about the car, and let's get some food…"

"What? Issit stolen?" Demyx asked, truly curious.

"Just shut up and keep walking." VIII murmured, quickening pace as they passed the local flower shoppe. Shin-Ra members were known to pop in there every now and then, and Axel wanted no chances. Better to not look suspicious, though.

Slowing down a bit, he turned to face Demyx, brushing stray bits of glass off his collar, "What do you feel like?" He asked, a convincing grin sprawled across his face.

Surprised by Axel's quick backlash from the previous events, Demyx stumbled, almost tripping. Blushing profusely at his clumsiness, he paused after a moment, putting a finger to his lips and thinking.

"How does Chinese sound, sir?" He suggested after a moment or two of deep thought. After the usual routine of 'don't call me sir,' Axel agreed, and led Demyx off, en route to 'Radiant Garden Buffet'.

Such routine started off rather quiet, the both of them silently moving forward through dusk streets, exchanging only a cough and a sneeze and half of a yawn, the whole while.

"Is it right, Axel..?" Demyx finally said, glancing at the blood matted over his hands, "What we do...?"

Axel paused, biting his lower lip and glancing around, "Of course it is. We get paid, don't we? And they're the bad guys.."

"I... Really..?" Demyx took his eyes to the ground, wringing his hands together, trying to scrape the blood off with friction, "That guy wasn't a problem, was he? I mean, I know he was Shin-Ra, and I know he was one of _those_ Shin-Ra, but he WAS an honest man.."

Axel laughed harshly, vicious, "An honest man--!? You're calling Verdot, leader of Shin-Ra's Department of Administrative Research a fucking honest man--? Geez, Dem. What the hell..?"

"Hey, I.." He sighed, shrugging and trudging, "You know.."

"Eh?"

"Sometimes I wonder if this heart thing.. If we're really--"

"Just shut up. I can see the Buffet."

"Y-yes, sir.."

:

:i_wanna_line_the_pieces_up

:

As a group, they had always enjoyed watching the lights at night. It was daily routine… No-one would ever question four under-age kids wandering about after sunset. No adults cared anymore, really. This city was too far gone, and these four knew that, known that once their parents had separately gone at their own times. One way or another, each and every one of these 'children' were rather alone, sans each other…

That was all that mattered, in the minds of each of them. As they walked towards a favorite hanging spot, none of them would have guessed to the ever-closening end of these halcyon days.

"Oi! Incoming!" The girl laughed, as the blonde boy kicked a bottle rather hard at their leader ahead. Laughs and chatter, as the brown-haired boy intercepted it, sending the empty gin container crashing against a dumpster.

The leader glanced around to the blonde, rolling blue eyes with a smirk to the other's brown.

"A challenge!" The blonde chided, bounding to stand at the leader's side, clapping a hand onto his shoulder, "Was that a threat, Roxas?" He goaded, shaking the shoulder a bit as 'Roxas' sighed, pausing and chuckling.

"Maybe, Hayner… But now?" Roxas sighed, placing a hand on his hip, a habit of his, "I mean, I know you're dying to overthrow me!" He brought up his other hand, wagging a finger in a scolding motion.

"How did you know?" Hayner laughed, popping his knuckles mockingly.

Before Roxas could respond, the girl, Olette, cut in, wagging her own finger, "Hey, guys! Are you forgetting? It's discount night, and, if we want food…" Oh-so-coy, she smirked, raising a brow at the two blondes.

Codes only these four could understand. Laughs only they would get. One may say this was the time of their life… One might claim nothing would go wrong at that second, as they made a fateful trip towards their favorite place.

"Hey! Guys!" The other boy, Pence, laughed, trotting up to the rest, "Where should we go tomorrow?" The constant question; someone had to ask it every night… And the same answer fell from Roxas' lips.

"Wherever we can…"

"What about the beach?" Olette suggested, waving an arm to depict a shoreline.

"So expensive!" Hayner sighed, crossing his arms, "It's like.. What? 5,000 just for a melon there! And the tickets don't go cheap, either. No matter how fun it is, I dunno if it's worth it." He added, a groan of displeasure audible in there.

"Well, the beach sounds like a good idea to me.." Roxas laughed, "I'm sure we could raise up the extra money…" A wink to his friends, and they continued forward, much discussion on odd jobs to take up for the beach trip arising. Many laughs, as par. And again, and again.

After a few more peaceful minutes, the quartet found their way to an oh-so-familiar restaurant, assembling just in the door (first booth they could find). At 9 in the evening, they were, expectedly, alone as customers in the place. After placing a group order to the blonde, rather stoned waiter, the conversation moved as any would, from daily things to dreams and back again.

With the tinkling of a small bell, two smartly-dressed men entered the room, one looking exceedingly nervous. Immediately, the conversation died out, all four of the kids staring at the two young men, only a few years older then them, made their way to the booth just behind them. All exchanged worried glances; they knew very well the kind of adults who actually went outside at night…

They knew, all-too-well, that this was a Gang town. At least three large gangs lived within Sukuea, and its sister city, Enikkusu. All three were bloodthirsty, dangerous… Ready to kill anyone.. And, of course.. There were the rumors of 'families' amidst the chaos. 'Families' were much, much larger and more powerful than gangs… If fact, most gangs were allied under assumed family names.. Though no-one knew if those overlords of the underworld really existed. Silly rumors, and all…

The blonde waiter, toting the nametag 'Cloud' wandered his way over to the table sporting the two newcomers. Mumbling came from the table, but no threats were made, no guns were pulled. The redhead actually seemed to be pleasant, and the blonde was quite silent… Cloud passed back towards the counter, whapping the sleeping black-haired girl behind the counter awake as he did.

Another glance passed between the four kids, before conversation slowly began to wind up once more. None noticed the annoyed glances as they vocalized louder and louder, as all kids will do… Not until the redhead turned, clearing his throat just behind Pence's left ear, did anyone remember the two strange men.

Pence started, glancing around to the redhead, noting the strange makeup he wore subconsciously. The man's face was set into a deep frown, his companion's timid, staring at his empty plate.

A chill running down his back, Pence spoke, "C-can I help you, mister?" He asked, a quiver in his voice. The next second, Pence was on the ground, clutching a broken nose and howling in pain. The redhead, whom we bystanders know as Axel, stood triumphant over the wounded boy, shaking blood off his knuckles.

Shouts and yells, accompanied by the sounds of the other three jumping up, raising fists, cracking knuckles, echoed across the mostly-empty building, snapping the night manager awake, far in the back of the place.

"What was that for!?" Olette crowed, hidden a bit behind an insistent Hayner.

"What did he do to you!?" Roxas called, atop the table.

"Who do you think you are, man!?" Hayner screamed, holing an arm out to protect Olette.

A silence followed, Demyx slowly rising from his seat, taking up stance behind Axel. Axel counted heads, reaching into his coat ever-so-slowly. Eyes flicked to the exit, and an automatic pistol, painted and stylized in an intricate red-and-silver pattern, was drawn, pointing between the eyes of Hayner, who froze. Terrified.

"Name's Axel… A-X-E-L. Commit it to memory," His voice drawled out, casual with such a situation, "Number VIII… Flurry of the dancing flames."

_Continued in Chapter III…_


End file.
